


Null's Book of Whatever They Can Think of.

by inactive_account



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Belly Rubs, Cronus has a consent kink, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble Collection, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Kankri is a little pudgy, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Out of Character, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Reunions, Self-Indulgent, Slice of Life, and as my rotting brain cell can remember, at least in alternia, guys being dudes, kind of, like rlly sof, lots of headcanons, more tags as we go along, most likely, piles, probably, soft angst, tyzias can cook, wacky feelings, xefdam is probably coming up soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23900965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inactive_account/pseuds/inactive_account
Summary: adjacently, Null's Book of Mindless Shenanigans that originate from Discord Servers with the help of CopyPaste.send prompts i may or may not do them.
Relationships: Azdaja Knelax/Konyyl Okimaw, Cronus Ampora/Kankri Vantas, John Egbert & Dave Strider, Sollux Captor/Aradia Megido, Tyzias Entykk & Tagora Gorjek
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

_yeah honestly this is a thing that's more for keeping track of little things like drabbles or small one shots i occasionally sprinkle on my peers in discord in a manner akin to the salt bae's._

_but i'm constantly thinking of things to write and it gets boring listening to my own thoughts so feel free to send a prompt and i might actually write that. hint: my favourites are one-word prompts._


	2. Naturally; A small series of detailed AraSol headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written some time ago (the first of april haha) and i woke up at like 1:38 in the morning with arasol on my mind. enjoy, i guess.
> 
> 1\. Trying New Things  
> 2\. Probably a Great Moirail  
> 3\. Old Memories

aradia’s visiting sollux one day, but sollux is stuck working on a coding project so he can’t focus on her a lot. she still stays and enjoys her time there, checking out his things, fixing up his messes and making sure he eats a lunch before she decides to settle next to him and talk to him about what he’s coding. she doesn’t really get a lot of what he’s explaining, but she’s so captivated by the fast and practiced typing sollux is doing that she comments aloud _“you’d be great at piano with those fingers.”_ sollux pauses and so does his hands, and aradia giggles when she realizes that she spoke out her thought and apologizes, then offers if he would be interested in learning to play piano sometime. sollux admits he doesn’t have much time to think about taking up any more hobbies, but aradia shakes her head with a knowing smile.

a week later, she invites sollux over with the excuse that her desktop isn’t working right and when he knocks on the door, she greets him with a warm hug before leading him to the room where her desktop was assumed to be. instead, it’s a room that’s been cleaned and cleared out save for an old piano and sollux visibly deflates, much to aradia’s amusement. _“don’t give me that look! listen, at least try it with me, and if you don’t like it, we don’t have to do this. c’mon?”_ sollux can’t say no to aradia. he sighs heavily and reluctantly complies, much to aradia’s glee, and before he knows it, he’s sitting next to aradia, watching as she instructs the basics and fundamentals of posture.

some hours go by and now aradia has sollux practicing seventh chords with both hands, but he’s growing increasingly frustrated with his constant blunders and misses with the keys. _“this is nothing like typing on a keyboard,”_ he utters, catching aradia’s attention, and she laughs before hugging sollux from behind and gently grasping his wrists to keep him from pulling away from the piano. _“but it is! you just gotta get used to it, right? here, let me show you...”_ and with that, she slips her hands under sollux’s, making sure his are shadowing hers before slowly playing the chords he was practicing on. _“see? it’s easy. just like this... you just need to practice, is all. this is great, right?”_ he tilts his head slightly to the side and spots plump burgundy lips smiling ever so sweetly at him, and he has to admit, the experience had been the opposite of utterly awful. _“mm... yeah. i guess this isn’t so bad.”_

_“so you’ll learn with me?”_

_“only with you, aa.”_

_“deal.”_

  


_\---_

  


sollux and aradia piling together. aradia falls asleep on sollux and wakes up some time later to find that he's fallen asleep too. she giggles quietly and takes off his glasses for him to avoid damaging them, then cuddles up into him before realizing that it's a little uncomfortable to do that. lifting his shirt a little to find the source of discomfort, she sees that sollux is just about skin and bones due to the lack of proper self care, much to her dismay, and decides then to get up and make him something to eat. sollux wakes later to the scent of grubcakes and to the feeling of small fingers running through his hair and is greeted with the sight of aradia sitting beside him with a plate in her lap and a fork in her other hand, ready to feed him.

  


\---

  


aradia is constantly pestering sollux about being inside all the time, shooting down his rebuttals of " _i'm a city troll, what do you want me to do?"_ eventually because of her persistence, he decides to surprise her with not only a visit, but a detailed plan to go take a trip somewhere. aradia is thrilled to go and they end up having a great time. when they return to their respective hives, aradia suggests that venturing out together would be a nice thing to do every 24 pedigrees or so. sollux agrees, because yes. they start a souvenir collection together.

and when aradia dies, sollux takes the time out to revisit all the places they went together.


	3. Cronkri and Belly Rubs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kankri standing in front of a mirror, his sweater hiked up with his chin and he’s pressing at his stomach, sometimes squeezing it with a displeased look, maybe a little sad, and cronus walks into the room and notices him immediately and comes up behind him and hugs him and just croons to him how much he loves kankri and everything about him, including his body and  
> im gonna make myself whine.
> 
> ~ null, some time last week

You're feeling a little lucky today because it's just you and him resting on your loungeplank, him with his head shoved in his book and you with your head shoved in his sweater. Except, now his book is forgotten and his hands are balled into shaky fists around his sweater, holding it up for you, and he's giving you a look that tells you that he doesn't quite agree with what you're doing but likes it anyway. It's one of those days, those rare days, where Kankri is content with you touching him, and it always makes you smile on how he announces it right before stepping past your doorway. _"If you wish to partake in... Physical intimacies today, I would not be opposed,"_ He goes in that know-it-all tone, all flushed and shy like it's really that big of a deal (because to you, it is), and your bloodpusher jumped because as of the lates, you've really been wanting to explore a little more... Under the clothes. But not like that, not yet.

You run the flat of your hand up, up, up, then drag it down ashen skin, drawing out a shudder, and then another when you press your lips to Kankri's stomach. His figure was always a mystery to you before when you could only make assumptions through his overly concealing clothing, but today you learn fully that Kankri is soft, small, not too shaped but not misshapen either. He's round around his hips and when you splay both of your hands across his gut, you discover hidden pudge that is something sweet to caress. You press another kiss to it, sucking a little bit of his skin into it, and Kankri's breath hitches.

_"You aight, chief?"_ You check in, remembering that this is entirely new to Kankri and suddenly hyperaware and a little unsettled how he hasn't breathed a syllable since you laid him across the loungeplank. You glance up for good measure, finding him staring down at you with wide eyes and parted lips, his cheeks painted a splotchy red. He seems a little slow to realize you spoke, but he shakily nods, his fingers clenching around the fabric in his hands. _"It is fine, this is fine,"_ He utters, but you're not convinced. Not with that tone of voice. _"You gotta lemme know if this is rubbin' you the wrong way, Kan. We ain't gotta do this-"_

_"That is... Not it,"_ Kankri interrupts quickly, shaking his head with a small apology. _"It is more than I was expecting, I'll be honest,"_ He pauses, teeth catching on his bitten bottom lip. _"But it is enjoyable."_ You smooth your hand down his tum again and his eyes flutter shut, you can't help but take a moment to press the pads of your fingers into his skin. It's squishy in the way troll skin isn't supposed to be. You find it really appealing. _"Aight chief, but speak up if you need a breather."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> troll skin headcanons no one asked for;
> 
> \- rustbloods usually have soft skin that bruises easy, just a little thicker than human skin.  
> \- bronzebloods have tougher skin, scaring easier than bruising. it takes a good pummeling to bruise a bronzeblood.  
> \- goldbloods bruise and scar easily, but it's hard to get them to bleed with minor injuries. scrapes and light cuts don't bother them, but stabs and deep lacerations do.  
> \- mutants; either depend on what caste they were originally supposed to be but in [pre-post scratch]kankri/karkat, i'd think they'd have pretty malleable skin  
> \- olivebloods are pretty tough, they have bruising resistence and it usually takes quite a couple cuts to falter them.  
> \- jadebloods have tight, not necessarily dry skin, but a cut heals over pretty fast. average bruising.  
> \- tealbloods aren't often seen in combat and depending on the experience level of each, their skin can be soft like rustbloods' or hardy like olivebloods.  
> \- ceruleanbloods are hard to injure, bottomline.  
> you'd have to be a tyrianblood to properly disable an indigoblood. they have thick callused skin, good luck even cutting it.  
> \- purplebloods vary, but it doesn't even matter if they refuse to die.  
> \- tyrianbloods and fusciabloods have rather malleable skin, but good luck landing a hit.


	4. Ship Name for Azdaja and Konyyl that I'm not aware of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yuh.  
> could be considered a legitimate oneshot.

Usually on nights as dark and drab as the sixth equinox, you and your moirail-matesprit would be out celebrating over a corpse party or indulging in a particularly EX-FLARP session. The kinds of sessions where even if you were among the higher ranks of players (which the both of you were), you'd need prep-talking. Moirail piling. Literally, right at the cusp of EX-FLARP territories, trolls would be setting piles to get their feelings jammed.

Tonight was simple. You liked that a lot more than you put on. You thought it would be boring when the idea was brought up, but here you are laying flat on your stomach with Azdaja's legs resting across your back. You like this position, because you can turn your head one way and see him clearly, teal and indigo eyes glowing softly and illuminating his face some more along with the street lights streaming through the closed blinds. Some ruckus was being caused outside, but you've learned to ignore it. And by the looks of how deeply Azdaja is engrossed in his handheld, the one you got him a few sweeps ago, he doesn't care much about it either.

You fold your arms under your head, watching as his eyebrows quirked and furrowed, watching his lips twitch and his tongue dart out in concentration, his fingers really going at it. You know he said that you wouldn't have to dress anything fancy since the two of you were just going to stay inside and relax together, but it's refreshing to see him so... Casual. He's simply dressed in long sleeves and the sweatpants he dons makes your back a little sweaty. His long hair is combed but not styled, the cowlick of hair he usually has flopped right between his eyes. He constantly blows at it to keep it up. You found yourself giggling at that more than once.

Azdaja is great, you mentally remark. He's smart, sharp like any goldblood should be, but holds an air of sophistication that tames your own wild uncoordination. He's quick, his psionics are powerful, your perfect counterbalance. But he's small. He's soft. And the more you grow to realize this, the more worried you get.

_"Hey, Az,"_ You grunt loudly, turning your head towards him. He closes his handheld almost immediately, all focus on you. _"What's up?"_

_"You like... Games, right?"_ Azdaja cocks an eyebrow at you, a smile already on his lips. He always smiles easy. It melts your bloodpusher. _"Yeah, obviously? Why?"_

_"You like... Y'know, Duel Strifers and FLARP, right?"_

_"I suppose so. They're fun."_ You can taste the uncertainty in his voice. You can also tell that he knows you know about his uncertainty. His brows hint it. _"What are you getting at, Konyyl?"_

_"Mm... Just thinkin'."_

_"About what?"_

_"'Bout stuff."_

_"Stuff liiiike?"_ Now you're smiling too. _"Goddammit, stop that!"_

_"I'm not doing anything!"_

_"Yeah you are!! You're doin' that... That thing that gets people to talk!"_

_"I'm not doing anything, it's your think pan creating the illusion that I'm doing something like that! As of now you just fell for your own trap and created a controversy in saying that you didn't have anything to say but ended up saying that you do. That's called a Freudian slip."_

_"Stop with the big words!"_ Azdaja chuckles and lifts his hands away from his lap. _"Okay... But in all seriousness. What do you need to talk to me about with those games?"_

_"Well... You know how you sometimes freak out?"_ You think you should have found a way to prepare for the conversation because your bloodpusher drops when his easy-going expression does too. _"... Yeah?”_

_”Don’t take my word on it but uh. I think maybe… Those kindsa games aren’t for you?”_

Azdaja pauses, but he doesn’t wait long. He never does. He sighs, carrying the weight of some never before seen pressure, leaning his head back on the pillow it was perched on before. _”I know.”_ You were expecting more of a reaction, honestly. _”Wait then…”_

_"Yeah.”_

_”Why?”_

_”When I first got into it, I thought it would be a good experience. Alternia’s culture is so hellbent on violence and destruction. History is obsessed with the concepts of b_ _oth Darwinism and Social Darwinism-”_

_"_ _Uhh…”_

_”Survival of the fittest.”_

_”Oh.”_

_”I thought getting more familiar with things like killing for the fun of it would make me more… Resilient to it in the future. When we’re old enough to get shipped off to space where more of that ruthless violence would be even more normal than here.”_

_”Yeah?”_

_”Yeah. I thought that if I got used to it enough, then it would be really easy later on. If I won’t be used to power some tyrianblood’s ship, they’re no doubt gonna stick me along with the more direct-contact line of execution. Or maybe I might get stuck with some particularly bloodthirsty space pirates. I thought that if it happened to be one of those cases, then fighting battles and taking lives would seem really fun. Almost like a game.”_

_”... But you keep freaking out.”_

_”Yeah. I know.”_ Azdaja sighs, setting his handheld on his chest as he stares at the ceiling. _”I know.”_ He has pretty eyes, you think. They’re like water, pretty and flowing and calm, a lot like his psionics. You suddenly sit up and he yelps as he’s dragged forward, then you laugh because how was that not funny before settling down and letting him retrieve his limbs before you can move more. ” _Know what, you don’t have to feel like you gotta numb yourself to the feeling of people dying. Doin’ dirty work like that isn’t fit for some trolls and that’s totally cool! It means you have a lot of feeling, Az, and that’s something a lot of trolls can’t even begin to work towards having, and it hurts you to do stuff like kill ‘cause it’s the rules of the game ‘cause you realize killing for petty reasons ain’t right.”_

_”What are you getting at, Konyyl?”_

_”I’m gettin’ to it. You don’t have to be anythin’ like front line offense or even a battery for em stupid captains. I don’t know much about what lies beyond our time on Alternia but your Azdaja Knelax, the smartest and strongest goldy I’ll ever know and whatever happens, I’ll be right there with you so you won’t go through it alone!”_

Azdaja stares up at you, his lips parted and eyes wide. You’re suddenly at a loss for words, so you can just smile at him. But it seems to be enough because he’s flipping upright and locking you in a tight hug that you’re too big to fit into, but you lean into it anyway and pat his hair. He doesn’t say anything for a small while, but it’s enough to make you purr when he does. _”There’s not much of a future for me if I really am too empathetic to kill, but… There will be if you’re there with me.”_

  
_”It’ll be my promise, Az.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adding this one in via copy paste was a bit funky. if you see anything out of sorts, feel free to lmk.


	5. Dave reminding his best bro he's cared for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :surprised_pikachu:

_”i dunno man, you’ve been kinda down in the dumps recently.”_

john glances up from his old pda, spotting red draping smoothly over his windowsill. something in the air crackles when his gaze lands on those reflective aviators, he can see how he’s laying eaglespread on his back in them. he doesn’t like the look of himself and his gaze returns to the popcorn ceiling, a small shrug his only response to dave’s sudden appearance. fabric rustles, grunts sound, the window squeaks a protest, and the bed dips slightly as the taller male joins him—flops on top of him, right across the stomach and not even his custom made sweater can soften the blunt force. _”what the fuck,”_ john croaks, lightly pounding a fist on dave’s back, but his paler friend doesn’t budge. _”i’m here for you bro.”_

_”you didn’t need to be, dave.”_

_”but i am. cause i’m a great friend. i’m your best bro, and you’re my be_ _st bro, and this bromance is a two-way street. you’re always there for me when i need it the most, i’d be a shittier bro and person in general if i didn’t-“_

_”thanks, dave."_

_”... do you not wanna talk about it?”_

_”i’m just not feeling good.”_

_”is it like a ‘oh fuck i drank so much last night i was utterly floorboarded’ not feeling good or a ‘oh fuck i’m not vibing anymore, my groove is off track’ not feeling good?”_

_”uhh... more like the latter, i think. i don’t know, dave. i was thinking about the game, and what i could have done to prevent some stuff from happening.”_

_”is this about your dad or whatever?”_

_”sorta. but now im thinking about everything else. i kind of... inconvenienced everyone at some point-“_

_”dude, why are you even thinking about that bullshit. of course you inconvenienced everyone at some point, that’s like the most naturally egbert thing you can do. it’s not even an egbert thing respectively. everyone fucks up at some point, it’s what people do. and look where we ended up, everyone’s all fine and shit and we can live out our lives doing whatever the fuck we want.”_

dave starts to wriggle around to face john a little better, much to john’s dismay; he begins to giggle some and then he’s pushing at dave’s shoulder, drawing his attention some more. _”oh—john are you. is this really a fucking joke to you?”_

_”no! i’m being serious, you’re just tickling me! don’t move like that, dave.”_ and instantly does the weight in the air shift. john senses it too, he starts to kick in efforts to desperately abscond, but it’s no use when nimble fingers are dancing along his sides and dave’s cheeks are reddening with how big he’s smiling. john squeals girlishly so, but he can’t hold back the painful laughter dragged out from him and there’s no room between them to safely scamper off, not with his friend relentlessly attacking from above. 

eventually he’s reduced to hiccups, tears, and exhausted sobs for it to stop and for dave to have mercy on his best bro, and then it finally does, john rushes to take a gasp of air when something lighter, softer, warmer than dave’s finger settles on his tummy for a moment. he misses his chance to see what it was dave did, but he rests his chin on his exposed skin, waggling his eyebrows. john rolls his eyes, but his smile’s still there. _”but honestly dude, stop thinking so much about what happened in the past. we’re here now because of it. i’m like the lord of time-“_

_“-knight-“_

_”shut the fuck up i didn’t ask. i’m the guy to be telling you shit about time bottomline, since you wanna be a smartass. but in all seriousness... talk to us man? we all went through this together. you shouldn’t have to feel like you can’t tell us shit cause you can. and if you feel like talking to jade or rose is some big fucking deal cause i get it with rose and her overanalytical bullfuckery, i’m always here for you, dude.”_

_”dave... thanks. thanks a lot. but, you’ve gotta admit, that was pretty gay.”_

  
john finds himself downright screaming as dave drags him by the ankle out of the window.


	6. off day; tyzias <> tagora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one's kinda old too

Today is one of your lower days, you could tell the moment you woke up the reddish-pink reflecting on your recuperacoon. Your mind was sluggish and your limbs were heavy as if some shitty highblood came and sucked the rejuvenating properties of sopor slime out of your system. Really, you hated the feeling. And you hated highbloods too. No one’s allowed to be more full of themselves than you. You’ve established that already in your cliche, why couldn’t everyone else get that?

That sort of thinking didn’t help like it should have. You melt a little into the cool slime when the light of the dying sunset fades from the walls of your respiteblock, but you still don’t find the energy to climb out. You don’t even have the energy to think about your extensive daily routine ahead of you. It’s funny, because there’s nothing like the feeling of pampering your beautiful self. It’s a great feeling that usually gets you started in the evening. You’ve always looked forward to it, ever since you found yourself enraptured by watching your custodian groom himself after grooming you from a young age, and maybe its the fact that the sound of the ablution trap isn’t running yet or you haven’t come downstairs and aren’t immediately raiding the hunger trunk, but you spot the flicker of whiskers and a white tail at the entrance and you sink a little farther into the slime, because the last thing you ever want to do is worry your lusus.

You unintentionally do so, because now he is scuttling up to your recuperacoon and you can hear him thinking so loud it almost hurts your think pan in turn and  _ finally  _ you drag yourself out of bed because you do not want to be nursing a headache on a bad day. Thankfully your lusus understands. He simply curls around your ankle and his thoughts dye down to a quiet, reassuring murmur. Somewhere along the lines, you hear him say something more specific that you can only interpret as  _ “Bathe and take a mental day”  _ because ferret isn’t something you’re entirely fluent in. Then, you think he says  _ “Let your friends know, too,” _ and then you are scoffing because that’s also the last thing you want to do, knowing  _ some _ teals would be drilling it into you the next time you show up to the bookhive. Lousy bastards. Your lusus verbally chitters at you for your snide thought.

You ended up taking a brisk shower and simply pulling your hair—all of it—into a quick bun because you’re not really feeling it. You’re not going outside nor seeing anyone because you’ve called your clients and threatened to raise their bills if they had a problem with you kindly delaying their cases a day longer. You didn’t actually. Because that was unprofessional. But you snuck it in there and they got it, like they should, because you could always just call the drones on them if they made a big fuss over it and they know this.

You are resting on a stool in your kitchen with a cup of rich cappuccino, your lips at the rim of the warm mug when your door opens and another teal welcomes themselves into your hive. You’re surprised at first because you swore that you locked your door last night and suddenly your lusus is silent, then you swivel in your seat to give the intruder the most dangerous look you can muster, which proves to be ineffective when a pair of tired, indifferent eyes stare right back at you.  _ “Wwwow. You look so mmmmuch better wwwwithout that mmmmop on your head all in your face,” _ Tyzias drawls, her own mug of whatever ready at her side. You put down yours and glance around for your lusus, who is nowhere in sight. You love your lusus, truly, but you hate him so much right now.

_ “What. Are you doing. In my hive.” _ You quietly speak, the anger not quite there yet.  _ “I have a feeling you already know, so I’m not really gonna go into that. You’re mmmmaking breakfast, right?” _

_ “You really think I’m going to-“ _

_ “No, cause I’m mmmmaking breakfast.” _

You pause. What exactly is going on right now?  _ “What exactly are you  _ doing here. _ ” _ You ask again, because surely there is something you are missing.  _ “I dunno. Keeping you company. Mmmmaking sure you didn’t fucking bail on us.” _ You can’t take your eyes off of Tyzias as she shambles into your kitchen and begins to dig through your cupboards, taking a swig from her mug every now and then. You don’t quite know what to say, but thankfully she does.  _ “Your hive is so bright. Turn down the light or something, I’m getting a headache.” _ You’re as thankful as you can get. You comply anyway, because you probably would have done so even without her demands to.

_ “So. Wwwwhat’s up?” _ You turn in time to see her pull out a container of grubbatter.  _ “What do you mean, ‘What’s up?’” _ You growl, because you hardly know what she’s thinking when she says things. You hardly know what anyone is thinking when you talk to people, it’s truly a struggle for you.  _ “I mmmmean, wwwwhat’s up. Wwwwhy are you staying home today? This isn’t really like you.”  _ There it is. Your ears droop some, and you can’t quite come up with a response that’ll make sense, because Tyzias won’t understand. Not like your lusus.  _ “Are you having a day or something?” _ She continues on, much to your surprise.  _ “... You could say that.” _

_ “You could have just said that.” _

_ “I just did.” _

_ “No, you didn’t.”  _ You’re missing something again.  _ “You didn’t say anything to the group.” _ Oh. Right.  _ “So?” _

_ “Communication is important, dude. You don’t really get that, I’ve noticed.” _

_ “Well how the-...  _ How.  _ Do you know what to say to get others to understand you?” _

Tyzias turns to you with an incredulous look, having set down her mug in favour for cracking cluckbeast ovals into a bowl of sifted batter.  _ “You really need to talk to mmmmore people. Not everyone can hear thoughts. And not everyone’s going to understand you right away, either. That’s wwwwhy you need to talk, to give others a chance at understanding.” _ You weren’t expecting to be schooled on this today. You clamber back into your seat and now rest your chin on the marbled counter, because this conversation has sucked the remaining energy out of you. Tyzias seems to get this, at least you can assume she does, because she doesn’t speak again and only continues to cook.

You must have dozed off because when you open your eyes again, there’s a plate with a neat stack of buttered grubcakes and a comfortable warmth pressing against your side. You sit up and dig the balls of your palms into your eyes and the warmth shifts slightly, drawing your drowsy attention.  _ “You good?” _ Oh, dammit.  _ “You’re still here.” _ Tyzias snickers softly.  _ “Yeah. I don’t like wwwwaking up alone from naps outside of sopor. I thought you wwwwouldn’t either.” _ You’re not all too sure about it, but when Tyzias’s face enters your blurry vision, you can’t help but feel… Something. You must have not seen it, but she’s writing something in her textbook and she’s so close to you that she’s practically glued to your side. You don’t know whether to feel repulsed or impressed, so you decide to settle with a little bit of both.  _ “I would have been more than delighted to wake up to you gone.” _

_ “Wwwwe both know that’s a lie.” _

_ “We both know you’re only lying to yourself.” _

_ “Wwwwell if I wwwwas lying to yourself, then wwwwhat the hell are you doing?” _

You jolt to attention and she looks you in the eye, a sparkle of amusement behind her lenses.

_ —“Cease existing.” _

_ —“Stop existing.” _

There’s a moment of tense silence between you and her, but then she starts to laugh and somehow she drags you into it too. It’s oddly the best you’ve felt all day.  _ “Just eat,” _ Tyzias breathes out eventually, once the both of your chuckles are relieved.  _ “You don’t get to tell me what to do, I’ll fine you.” _ You still drag the plate to you despite yourself, finding a fork and her mug behind it.  _ “Yeah, wwwwhatever, Sore-Gor. I better see you at the bookhive tomorrow after this,” _ Snorts Tyzias as she returns to her textbook. You smirk.  _ “I’m afraid I’ll have to turn down your romantic advances, I am a very busy troll-“ _

_ “Perish.” _


	8. Home; Cronkri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lame title lmao.

You're buzzing with excitement and you aggressively combat the reason being the frequent jostle of the train car. Breathing oxygen gas again had hurt after living in pressures great enough to crush a standard being's lungs, but nothing had rivaled the tears you had shed upon hearing your matesprit's voice for the first time in six years. You finger your keys anxiously as the conductor announces your destination. Your glasses are slipping down your nose and your surroundings are blurrier than you remember, but you push them back into place. You want to see him as clearly as possible.

Gravity shifts when you stand before the train fully rattles to a stop. If it had been a week prior, you would be sprawled on the floor, a waterlogged mat for other exiting passengers, but you only stumble. It doesn't stop you, not when you're grabbing your duffel and hoisting it over your shoulder as you hurry off of the train, your free hand holding your frames to your face.

The station is packed full but you've gained an impressive foot and a half since you've left, perfect doorway ducking height, but now it's finally for your advantage. You see trolls, of course you do. There's a wide variety of burgundies and bronzes, spotty olives and small clumps of blues and purples. There's even a young chartreuse riding the shoulders of a lanky jade - you can practically see history repeating itself - but you don't see _your_ troll, your special colour. He would stick out like a candle in the dark, even more so than the little lime. You shuffle about back and forth, here and there - _where is he, where is he_ \- until-

_"Cronus?"_

You're spinning on your heel in an instant and. There. There he is, your candy red, just about climbing over a human to see you. You drop your duffel and you're shoving past the crowd, crossing the station in a few strides - his face elates - and soon your arms are fool of him. Curled tight around the back of his knee as he sits on your arms and it just feels so, so good. His hands are in your hair and his voice is in your ears and his scent is in your nostrils - he's nostalgic, serene; where you're all ocean and salt and adventure and probably something alcoholic, he's cinnamon spice and winter hearths, he's crisp autumn and fresh linen and he's yours, all yours. He's choking up above you and your throat is so tight your gills are clamping and it's hard to breath and your tyrian tears are smearing your lenses and his sweater unpleasantly but you still nuzzle his stomach where you can feel his warmth and his pudge and you purr. You purr because you rarely do and when you do, it's always for him. It's rumbly and gritty but its the only way you can tell him you feel the same.

Years of missed messages, of longing _'good morning'_ and _'good evening'_ rants, daily summaries, long needed ' _i love you's_ and _'i miss you's_ and _'i need you's,_ you read through it all, each and every one up until last night's where you could finally reply and requisite and call and talk to him for hours until he passed out with his palmhusk in his hands. Years of looking skyward in the dark where the only light was provided from his own scales, thinking of sunrises and sunsets and waking up next to him again, and all you can do to tell him is squeeze his legs closer and purr.

The both of you stand there together for what seems like forever. You feel his fingers curling against your scalp and a hand is resting at the broad curve of your right horn. You didn't think he'd want to be so openly affectionate, but it's perfect. It's everything you could ask for. Eventually he speaks up, voice trembling and cracking. You can hear the tears in it. _"I missed you."_ It's simple, it's quiet, and yet it hurts you so nicely. It's still hard to breathe, it's a stuttered breath you force out before you inhale. _"T's okay, Kan."_ English feels strange on your tongue still. Your accent has thickened. The way he melts tells you he can tell, too. _"_ _T's okay... I'm here. 'M home."_

Kankri sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this came from a roleplay i'm currently doing with a good bud on discord, cronkri ofc. setting; basically earth c. dancestors revived somehow, plot armour.
> 
> cronus was like "fuck yeah i'm gonna travel the world and see shit before actually deciding to get a job." kankri says "oh thats cool." acting super bummed out because he realized literally everyone but him is super active on earth c after hearing cronus saying how literally everyone but him is super active on earth c. then he was all like "Damn im gonna miss you" like hours afterwards when they're in a pillow fort. soft shit ensues.


End file.
